


Significant Silences

by 1BloggerandSociopathX1



Series: Heaps of Johnlock [4]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Don't worry, Eventual Happy Ending, John POV, M/M, Post HLV, Post Mary, a bit of angst, all is well, bit of arguing, bit of snogging, pinning, silent Sherlock, smooch smooch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:47:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1BloggerandSociopathX1/pseuds/1BloggerandSociopathX1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John knew Sherlock's silences. He knew when Sherlock genuinely didn't have anything to say, and when he was pouting quietly. He knew when Sherlock was thinking and not even noticing that time was passing, much less that the flat was quiet. John could deal with these silences, he'd grown accustomed to them and he actually found them comfortable. That was, until one day he discovered another form of silent treatment that didn't make him feel safe, or comfortable at all. No, this silence wasn't a good one, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Significant Silences

John knew Sherlock's silences. He was naturally a quiet person; if he didn't have something of importance to say, then he didn't say anything. John was fine with this, and the silence that often fell across the flat was usually comforting. Sometimes they occurred because Sherlock was lost in his mind; when he didn't notice any time passing or whether or not John was even present or not. These silences were fine, and most of the time Sherlock came out of them pretty easily. John didn't mind 'waking' Sherlock up when he needed to be dragged from the labyrinths and wonders that resided within his own brilliant brain.

Then there were the silences of Sherlock's pouts, in which the detective's mouth was practically sown shut as he glared at the back of the couch. The pouts were the most annoying, as Sherlock was a stubborn man and it took a lot to get him to speak again (a case ranking at at  _least_ a six to even get a reaction from the man). John, ever the patient soldier, marched through these silences as well.

The silences that accompanied Sherlock Holmes led most to think he was more mysterious than he actually was, and for John to be the only one able to pry him out of the little quiet moments he had just made him feel all the more special.

After Sherlock jumped, the silence became harder to deal with. Not because it was quieter than usual in the flat, but because it was so familiar. Making breakfast in silence was so routine for him, and each day for a brief moment he would expect to go into the living room and find a folded up man facing the back of the couch, and each day it hit him like a ton of bricks in his gut that the reason it was so quiet was because he was alone. Finding that the silence was actually just loneliness was really one of the main reasons he just couldn't stay in that flat. That, along with the nightmares and hearing the ghostly notes of the violin in his head, made him leave Baker Street and force himself to move on.

Then Sherlock came back. And Mary shot him. And Moriarty came back. And John came back to Baker Street. After the plane landed, and after a few long, dreadful hours of complete panic, Mycroft managed to track the source of the video to see that it had been someone in Moriarty's web that Sherlock hadn't gotten to while he was away (for two damn years). Someone who Moriarty instructed to keep Sherlock in London, no matter the cost.  No matter if Sherlock killed a man, or if this act of mass panic would land the perpetrator of the video in prison. John would never admit it out loud, but honestly that video spreading across London was the best thing that could have happened to him. It allowed his best friend to come home. It allowed him to leave Mary. He would have stayed with her, he really tried to, only because Sherlock said to trust her, but once Sherlock was back he knew who he actually trusted. It took a while to get Mary to sign the divorce papers, and even longer to get her to come to an agreement about the baby at a later date. They would sort that out later; when they weren't living under the same roof.

***

John knew exactly where he was going after Mary signed the divorce papers, which took a few weeks after the plane landed- he was going home. Showing up at Two Hundred and Twenty One B Baker Street was a mixture of happiness and anxiety.  _What if Sherlock didn't want him back? It had been years since they lived together. He might not accept his presence._ He decided to push those thoughts away and deal with whatever came head on. Luckily, he was greeted with a warm welcome. Though, as he looked at Sherlock, sitting in his dark chair with a warm smile across his features, something about it seemed...confused. John brushed it off and went upstairs to unpack.

The Silence came a week after John moved in. They had fallen back into the same pattern they had before the Fall relatively quickly, John thought, before the Quiet began. However, there were more lingering touches and easier smiles, which made John much more relaxed. John would come downstairs and Sherlock would either be wide awake, discussing some new experiment or complaining about lack thereof, or on the rare occasion, sleeping. He would make coffee or some tea, while Sherlock would watch from a seat at the table as capable hands made his morning brew. The silence would depend on whether or not there was anything to talk about, and nothing more. They would have a pleasant morning, and John would look in the paper for a new job that didn't involve his soon to be ex-wife. Sherlock would be somewhat quieter as John looked for a new job, but John didn't comment. Maybe he just didn't want John to get a job and thought it would take away from time solving cases, or maybe looking for a job wasn't stimulating enough for his big brain to care about.

John had gone to his first interview for a clinic on the day of the Silence. He came down the stairs around mid morning to find Sherlock, who seemed surprised that the other was even dressed to go out. They had been lounging around the flat the whole week with no interesting cases to force them out into the real world, much less force them to put on proper trousers. John grinned at him, answering his question before he could ask, "I'm going to an interview."

Sherlock blinked and seemed completely taken back by this, watching as John ate a late breakfast before heading out the door, saying his farewell over his shoulder. As he got in the cab, John started to wonder why Sherlock seemed so quiet that morning. Surely him actually getting an interview hadn't been  _that_ big of a shock. As the long cab ride carried on he dismissed the thought in favor of prepping for his interview. This new clinic was further away than John had wanted, but he figured anything would be better than the possibility of awkwardly working with Mary.

The interview had gone well, and they had promised to call at some point in the next week to tell him whether or not he'd gotten the job. In fact, they said to expect it soon, which was a good sign in his opinion. He had been so giddy about the interview that he hadn't been worried about going home to Sherlock at all. Actually, he was happy to tell him that he'd probably landed a job. Well, he was happy just to see Sherlock. Without having to worry about Mary lately, he had realized how much he truly adored Sherlock...well, he had known for a while how much he had adored Sherlock. And to clarify, he wasn't gay. But no one ever bothered to assume he was bisexual, and it pissed him off, not to mention that he didn't think it was anyone's business. He had known the moment Sherlock came back. And without having to worry about Mary, he had accepted that it was more than a deep admiration, or a platonic kind of relationship. No, it was more than that. He had never felt the way he felt with Sherlock ever before. He knew it was love. There was no denying it. After Sherlock jumped he thought he had missed his chance, so he got with Mary, because she  _literally_ was the best thing that could have happened to him,  _because Sherlock wasn't there._ So, as he sat in the back of the cab, he didn't even bother to hide how excited he was to see Sherlock after the long interview.

The sun was nearly setting as he climbed out of the cab and up the stairs to 221 B. He opened the door and shrugged out of his coat, saying to Sherlock without looking to him, "The clinic's on the other side of London! It's a long ride, but they seemed to like me. I'll just have to get up earlier each morning," he put his coat on the coat rack before turning to Sherlock.

He was looking at the doctor with a completely confused expression, silent from where he sat on his black leather chair. John stared at him for a moment before licking his lips, kicking his shoes off and continuing as though Sherlock wasn't acting peculiar, "I'm starving, should I order in?"

He looked back to Sherlock, who nodded slowly, with the same confused expression. That was just odd. Sherlock wasn't pouting, and he wasn't zoned out, and usually he would have greeted John, even with just a simple head nod of acknowledgement. And he wasn't  _doing_ anything, just sitting there. John considered the dark haired man for another moment before pulling out his cell to order some Chinese take out.

He pocketed his phone and sat at their little table in the living room. He turned on his laptop, because Sherlock hadn't used it that day and didn't carelessly leave it on as he usually did. He furrowed his eyebrows and glanced to Sherlock. The flat seemed the same as he left, so he hadn't done any experiments, and his laptop had gone unused, so what did he do all day? Did he just think? Find some new crap show to watch? Find a case? John thought back to how quiet he had been that morning and pursed his lips. Yes, something was definitely wrong.

He went back to his laptop screen, pretending to read some of the comments left on his blog entries. He could feel the other's eyes on him, and he didn't know what to do. He felt worry creeping around him as the silence dragged on. It wasn't their normal, compatible silence that he had grown accustomed to. Something was off completely. He tried not to think of how quiet Sherlock had been before...before the Fall. When John called him a machine. When everything fell apart. He knew he was probably overreacting, but that day played over and over again in his mind, and he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Eventually the silence became too much and he pushed his chair back, turning to Sherlock, "Sherlock, are you-"

The knock on the door from the take out interrupted him and he sighed, standing up to get it. Of course just when he got the courage to face whatever was wrong with Sherlock, he was interrupted. He sent one more glance to Sherlock, finding that his eyes were still on him, before going down the stairs to pay the deliverer. He came back up with the food and started gathering two plates and forks. He glanced over to Sherlock again, who was still watching him. As he finished putting food on both their plates, he wondered what could possibly be the problem. Surely this was abnormal. John would have noticed if this happened before. He crossed the room with both plates and held one out and Sherlock gave him the most odd expression of gratitude and confusion that John had ever seen. John just stared at him for a minute before sitting in his own seat across from Sherlock.

He looked down to his food, trying to keep the conversation mellow as he commented, "You've been awfully quiet."

He got no response.

He tried for humor then, asking, "Glad you didn't burn the flat down out of boredom. Did you find anything to do while I was gone?"

That time he got a partial response, a head shake with the same confused expression on his face. John didn't know what to make of it. It was almost as though Sherlock was waiting for something, thinking John was going to do something and that he wanted to be prepared for it. It wasn't like the silences he had encountered before with the detective. Sherlock was looking at him, staring even. He wasn't zoned out and he didn't have the far off look in his eyes as though he were thinking. He was responsive, but barely. He seemed genuinely confused about something, which was extremely odd. John considered him for a long moment, in which he thought Sherlock was going to say something, but he didn't.

They continued their dinner in silence, John worrying about why Sherlock was being so quiet and Sherlock pecking at his food while looking to John with the same unchanging expression. John decided that he needed a moment to himself and went to the kitchen, putting his plate in the sink as he said, "I'll be in the shower."

He looked over to Sherlock, just to see if he responded at all, and saw that the man was still looking at him. He nodded slowly after a moment and John didn't know what to think, so he just hurried to the sanctity of the tiled room. He looked at himself in the mirror, running his hand across his face in exasperation. What was wrong? Something was off right? He wasn't just imagining it. He couldn't be. Sherlock was never so...focused on him. Not openly, at least. Not unless he was deducing something, and usually that gaze only lasted a few seconds. He sighed and started the water, taking off his clothes as he tried not to worry. He felt a bit of relief as the warm water ran down him, but he couldn't help but wonder about the silence that would face him once he left the steamy room.

Sure enough, as he opened the door of the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him, the silence greeted him like an old friend. He frowned, but didn't say anything, not yet, at least. He tightened the belt holding his robe closed nervously as he ducked his head into the living room. Sherlock looked up from where he was staring and considered him until John turned away. He went up the stairs to avoid explaining why he had bothered to check on Sherlock while still only in his robe, taking his time to change into his pajamas. He hovered at the top of the stairs, trying to decide what to do. He could try to bring up the silence again, or he could just push through as though nothing was wrong. Maybe turn on some crap telly to fill the room's awkwardness. Or he could just stay upstairs...no. He would be worrying too much all night too sleep, anyways.

He eventually forced himself down the stairs, still trying to think of a plan of attack, as he stopped mid step. There, in the doorway leading into their living room, was Sherlock. They stared at each other for a few seconds, that felt like years to John, before Sherlock spoke, in a surprisingly small voice that almost didn't sound like it belonged to the detective, "What are you doing?"

John blinked. He was currently going down the stairs, but that couldn't be what Sherlock was referring to. Before he could ask, Sherlock repeated himself, stepping the tiniest bit out of the doorway and closer to John, this time his voice stronger, "What are you  _doing_?"

John stared at him in confusion, his grip tightening on the rail as he asked, "What are you talking about?"

Sherlock seemed annoyed that John didn't know what this was about, and it showed in his tone, "What are you doing _here_ , John?"

John furrowed his eyebrows with confusion and the tiniest bit of hurt spread across his features as he processed Sherlock's words. He had been there for a week, surely Sherlock wasn't kicking him out now! He rolled his shoulders back and took a step down the stairs, saying, crisply, "I live here."

The taller didn't seem annoyed by this answer, he actually seemed more confused. He didn't say anything and spun on his heel, walking back into the living room and leaving an extremely confused John Watson on the stairs. John followed after a moment of collecting himself, only to find Sherlock laying on the couch, surprisingly facing him. John wondered why this was, as Sherlock usually faced away from John when he was being difficult, until he realized Sherlock still wasn't pouting. He was still watching John, expecting him to do something, as if turning his back would put him at too much of a risk at missing this amazing thing John was about to do. John stepped next to the couch, looking down at Sherlock as he cleared his throat, obviously expecting some sort of explanation.

He didn't get one. Instead he was met with the same silence as earlier and a confused expression on pale features. John wanted to scream in frustration. He settled for taking a deep breath before asking harshly, "What was that about?"

Again, Sherlock just stared at him. What was wrong with him today?! Everything had been fine! He had gotten an interview, and it had gone great! Why was he acting so...he blinked as he realized the Silence had come after he brought up the interview that morning.

He met the detective's gaze, asking in a more confused voice than an angry one, "Is this about the job?"

"I hardly see what else it could possibly be about, John."

Good. A response. A rude and annoying response, but a response nonetheless. He pursed his lips before asking, "Alright, what about it?"

He frowned when Sherlock avoided his gaze for the first time that night, turning his head to look to the ground the best he could from his position on the couch. John shook his head, commanding, "Oh, no, no. We aren't doing this. You don't get to give me the silent treatment anymore."

He waited a moment before reaching his hand out to tilt Sherlock's head to look at him, which was surprisingly easy to do. He tried to ignore how his own breath hitched when he felt Sherlock's chin and the other didn't pull away like he had expected. Sherlock's piercing eyes met his own and John sat on the edge of the couch. Granted, it was a bit tight, but Sherlock didn't seem to care and scooted closer to the back of the couch to allow John more room.

John didn't release Sherlock's chin for a long moment and asked again, after putting his hand on his own knee, "What's wrong about me getting different job?"

Sherlock seemed to hesitate, searching John's face for a long moment before saying, "Nothing's wrong. You stayed."

John furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side as he considered Sherlock's words before asking, "Did you think I would leave?"

John frowned when Sherlock looked away again, but this time he didn't make him look back at him. His frown only deepened when he heard Sherlock, "It's a completely logical assumption, John. You've done so in the past."

John huffed a breath, retorting, "After you faked your death for two goddamn years."

A silence fell after that, and John feared he had caused Sherlock to run away into his own mind for refuge. John took another deep breath before asking, "What does me getting a job have to do with me leaving, Sherlock?"

Sherlock bit his lip, and John desperately tried not to follow the action with his eyes, as the detective clarified tensely, "Hypothetically speaking, getting a new job means that you're going to stay...right?"

John looked at Sherlock incredulously. He actually thought John was going to leave? Was he expecting it? Was that why he was so surprised about him actually going through with a job interview? He forced a small smile, saying, "I was planning on it in the non-hypothetical sense." After a moment he added, "If you want me to."

Sherlock seemed to be having an internal battle and John wished he could help more, but he didn't know what to do. So he stayed quiet and waited for Sherlock to say, slowly, "But...there haven't been any cases."

John sat there in complete confusion. He stared at Sherlock and the man finally looked up at him. He sighed and seemed to take John's silence as a cue that he wasn't following, so he explained, "There haven't been any cases since you moved back in, and I thought-"

John cut him off, saying in an astounded voice, "You thought I came back for the cases?"

Sherlock blinked, sitting up on the couch as he responded, "Yes, we've established that you crave danger and you've been in a rather domestic setting with Mary, so-"

John interrupted again, "I came back for you, you idiot!"

Sherlock seemed more confused than he had all day, and John's heart broke. Sherlock had honestly, wholly and completely thought that John was only there for the cases. Because he needed a good fix of adrenaline, instead of Sherlock's companionship. He thought that after slow week of no murder or kidnapping, that John would pack up and leave out of boredom. He thought that John needed the rush a case gave him instantly after being with Mary, and that without it, he would leave. That was why he had been staring at John and why he had been so quiet since he returned. He had been expecting John to leave 221 B forever, not go to an interview for a job that kept him in the flat for the foreseeable future.

By the time John had processed Sherlock's words and looked back to him, he found Sherlock staring at him wide eyed, still completely confused. John needed to fix this stupid idea that Sherlock needed to entertain him with cases. He scooted closer to Sherlock, saying honestly, "I don't care if you never solve another case for the rest of your life, Sherlock. I'll still stay, if you let me."

Sherlock's mouth was dropped open a bit as he looked at John, still completely astounded and confused. John just smiled at him, hoping his words showed that he really, truly had no intention of ever leaving Sherlock. After a few long minutes, in which John had worried Sherlock had switched off into his mind, Sherlock cleared his throat, saying, "But, that is, you mean..."

His words hadn't clarified it then. Sherlock was acting like he had when John asked him to be his best man, but this hurt him more. This meant that Sherlock, who knew he was his best friend, had thought John would leave after getting a bit bored. Which wasn't true, at all. Suddenly John felt the need to make this clear. Fully, and undoubtedly true and obvious to Sherlock. Just like so many other things he needed to tell Sherlock, but couldn't find the words. How could he say it and make Sherlock really understand?

It occurred to him in the dimly lit flat in which the two had spent years in together, that nothing was stopping him. No wife, or girlfriend, or criminal mastermind could tell him not to show Sherlock everything he couldn't find the words to. John didn't let himself think, he didn't talk himself out of it as he had so many times in the past. Instead he abruptly took Sherlock's face in his tan hands, cherishing the stunned look of confusion and a touch of...hope? He almost pulled away, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he had misread the lingering stares the other gave him. Maybe Sherlock hadn't noticed how John let their hands brush a bit more often than he should have for best friends. Maybe Sherlock didn't want what John did...but the again, what if he was wrong?

He leaned forward, his eyes locked with Sherlock's and giving him plenty of time to pull away, before his lips pressed against Sherlock's. When most people describe the perfect kiss, they say it feels like fireworks, but John didn't feel that. No, it felt _right._ The kiss was warm, and gentle, and it felt like everything just fell into place at once. The perfect piece finding it's way into the grand puzzle that was their lives, not quite completing it, but beginning the next addition to it. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring it, and made a move to pull back. Just as he started to pull away though, his hands releasing where they held Sherlock in place gently, the other responded. It was like he had frozen, and John moving away had woken him up.

John moved closer to the taller man on the couch, increasing the intensity of the kiss after getting the message that Sherlock was okay with what was happening. He wanted to jump for joy, but that would mean breaking the kiss. And it was a  _fantastic_ kiss. He brought his hand up to lace his fingers into the ebony curls that he loved so much, exploring Sherlock's mouth after the other allowed him entry. Sherlock made a small surprised noise as he did so, and John absolutely loved the noise. Sherlock clearly hadn't had much experience kissing anyone. He was sloppy and trying to figure out how to do everything right, and most would call this _inexperienced_  but the adjective John would use was  _hot._ It didn't matter that Sherlock hadn't quite handled the fundamentals of snogging right away. For John, the fact that Sherlock _Holmes_ was at least  _trying_ to kiss him was reason enough to be elated.

They worked like that for a long time, John moving so he was practically on top of Sherlock on the couch. One hand was in his curls and the other was holding himself over Sherlock, while the detective tried desperately to grab at any part of John that he could, hands settling around his neck at one point. John reluctantly had to pull away to get some air, pressing his forehead to Sherlock's and looking into his eyes, seeing that his pupils were blown wide with excitement and surprise (and John hoped for arousal). A silence fell over them as they just stared at each other, both panting. But it was a good silence. A compatible one that John broke after a moment, grinning while confirming, "I'm staying for  _you,_ alright?"

His grin only grew when he saw Sherlock nod quickly, and captured the other's lips in his once more. And twice. And three more times. Until they were eventually in a rhythm of snogging on the couch, tightly pressed against the other as the phrase, " _finally,"_ passed through both their minds. The silence that surrounded them was another one that John had discovered, and he was so happy that he did. Now, it was their silence, not just Sherlock's. Not just not having anything to talk about, or pouting over the lack of a case, but instead both of their mouths being much more occupied with something more fulfilling and important.

**Author's Note:**

> I just had an idea and yeah this thing happened. I wrote it out pretty quickly, so please excuse any grammar mistakes :) Thanks for reading and leave a kudo if you enjoyed! If you have anything to say about the story or an idea for what I should have these two goofballs do next, leave a comment!


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